


The Stories We Tell Our Children

by keyboardninja



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 20:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6392926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyboardninja/pseuds/keyboardninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been sixteen years since Sam went into the Pit, and Dean has given up hunting for good. With a wife, kids, and a new home, he thinks he made a fresh start. But Dean's old demons (and angels) won't let him go that easily, and eventually his new life and his old have to collide. When old friends come knocking and new battles have to be fought, can the Winchesters ever truly escape their past, or is this family destined to their fate?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Stories We Tell Our Children  
Chapter One  
“They should be back by now.” Dean parted the slats of the window blinds with two fingers and looked out over the road, listening for approaching cars. Everything was quiet and still, barely even a breeze rippling the grass outside. The hot orange tennis ball of the setting sun sent long smears of shadows streaking from the surrounding buildings and cars.  
“They probably just got held up,” came the answering voice from the next room. Dean shuddered, thinking of all the things that “held up” could mean in this case. He turned to face outside again, squinting into the last rays of sunlight. “What if they ran out of gas? What if they’re stranded out there? Maybe I should go look.”   
“Dad, you’re overreacting. I’m sure they’re fine. They’re just late is all.” Ben padded in from the living room with his phone clutched in his hand. No sooner had he spoken than Dean heard the crunch of tires on the driveway outside. He turned to see Lisa’s silver Honda Civic pulling smoothly into the driveway. “Go and finish setting the table, dinner’ll be ready soon.” He patted Ben’s shoulder as he passed his son on his way into the kitchen. Warm, humid air rushed over him as he opened the side door and took a few steps into the driveway. He heard the car engine shut off, and Lisa slid out of the passenger side, circled back to open the trunk and started pulling out plastic grocery bags. The driver’s side door opened and Ellie jumped out, both feet landing on the pavement. She ran the few steps to help her mom unload the trunk.   
“How’d she do?” Dean asked, watching the two heads of identical dark brown curls bent over the open trunk. Lisa slammed it shut and they rounded the car with white plastic bags dangling from their clenched hands.   
“Perfect, not even a missed turn signal.” Lisa’s smile was warm with pride.   
“See, I’m a very responsible driver,” Ellie chimed in, tilting her head toward the open garage. “And I’ll be totally ready to get my license in two months.” She smiled up at Dean, batting her eyelashes.   
“Yeah, yeah, nice try Ells. Go put the car in the garage, then come inside and wash up.” He took the grocery bags from his daughter’s hand and leaned over to kiss the top of her head before putting an arm around Lisa and turning to go back inside.   
Ellie started the ignition again and slowly pulled the Civic through the open garage door. As she slipped out and slammed the door she turned to face the far side of the shed, where a familiar silhouette was covered by a tarp. She took a few slow, reverent steps toward the Impala. She carefully lifted the corner of the tan dust cover to reveal a sleek chrome-colored fender. Her distorted reflection looked back at her from the glossy black hood. She slowly placed a hand on the smooth, cool surface, imagining the purr of the engine underneath. “Ellie!” Her mother’s yell from inside the house startled her out of her reverie. “Come inside! Dinner’s ready!” Ellie let the cover fall back over the Impala and quickly closed the garage door before heading back inside.   
Back in the kitchen, the honey-colored wooden table was set with four places, and Dean was cutting up a rotisserie chicken he pulled from one of the grocery bags while Lisa tossed a salad together and Ben pulled the plastic lid off a container of mashed potatoes. Ellie went to the cabinet and rose up on her tiptoes to get four plates off the shelf. She set the stack next to Dean and he started dishing up the food. A few minutes later they were seated around the table, passing salt and pepper shakers and butter back and forth.   
“Ellie, how’s finals prep going?” Lisa asked, drizzling vinaigrette over her salad.   
“Good,” Ellie mumbled around a mouthful of chicken. She swallowed and continued, “This week is mostly review, then I have two finals on Tuesday of next week, two on Wednesday, and one on Thursday.”  
“How can you have six classes and only five finals?” Dean asked from across the table. “Well, I do have six, but the one on Friday is my band final, so all I have to do is play the clarinet for ten minutes. It’ll be easy. Then just the end of the year band retreat that weekend and I’m officially an upperclassman.”   
“Did Rodney agree to give you this weekend off so you can study?” Lisa’s eyebrows drew up in question.  
Ellie nodded. “Yeah, I just have to pick up Sydney’s shift tomorrow night and Will’s on Thursday.”  
“Good,” Lisa answered. “You know I love that you want to earn your own money Ellie, but this weekend you need to be studying, not waiting tables at the diner.”  
“And Ben, how about your finals?” Dean asked.  
“I’ll be done two days before Ellie.” Ben said. “My computer class and P.E. don’t have finals.”   
“I don’t know why you have finals at all,” Ellie said. “It’s middle school, who cares?”  
“That’s true,” Dean said, taking a swig from his glass of scotch.   
“Dean!” Lisa said, swatting him on the arm. “School is always important.”  
“Right mom,” Ben smiled down at his plate. “The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. That’s definitely important.”   
“That’s what they’re teaching in schools these days?” Dean asked. Lisa shot him a glare. “Why can’t they teach you useful stuff, like how to fix cars? Or how to do your taxes?”   
Lisa’s glare softened. “I’ll give you that one.” She gave Dean another playful swat. “Maybe if you had learned that in school you would be better at it,” she said teasingly.   
“Woman, I’ll have you know that I am a respectable, fiscally responsible citizen of the state of Michigan.” Dean said gravely.  
There was a pause at the table before all four of them burst out laughing. Dean reached over and scooped a forkful of mashed potatoes off his wife’s plate. She giggled as she pretended to push him away, and Ellie and Ben exchanged smiles and rolled their eyes at each other. Up and down the street, similar scenes were playing out at the dinner tables of families who looked just like them.

A few hours later the dishes were clean and put away, Ellie and Ben were finishing up homework and preparing for bed, and Dean was doing what he did every night, making a final round of the ground floor to make sure all the doors and windows were locked. He pulled the blinds aside and looked out across the street. All quiet, all peaceful, just like it had been every night for so long now, but he couldn’t quite make himself trust it.   
“You coming to bed?” Lisa said from the top of the stairs.   
“Yeah, I’ll be right up.” Dean let the blinds slide back into place and walked from the kitchen into the living room, giving the window locks a quick once-over. No matter how many nights passed, he still couldn’t let go of the idea that the one night he didn’t check would be the night something went wrong.   
Satisfied that the house was secure, Dean took a few steps closer to the living room fireplace and let his eyes wander across the framed photographs lined up on the white painted mantel. They were in chronological order: the first was from sixteen years ago, basically a lifetime, and showed the second time in his life Dean had worn a suit, the day he and Lisa were married. In the picture Lisa was laughing while her new husband kissed her cheek. Dean fingered the simple metal band around his finger as he smiled at the picture. Next to it were a few snapshots from their first year together: on a beach at their honeymoon, standing on the threshold of their first house. After that Lisa in a hospital bed holding a dark-haired baby girl, and not quite four years later a baby boy. The second half of the mantel was full of baseball games, birthdays, and barbecues, all with smiling, happy faces, and at the very end of the mantelpiece, a small wooden box.  
Dean picked up the box and slowly opened the lid. He reached inside and lifted out the amulet Sam gave him for Christmas so many years ago. The metal was solid and cool in his hand, heavy with the weight of so many memories. Setting the open box back on the mantel, Dean closed his hand around the amulet, the black cord dangling from his hand as he paced back across the room.  
“Cas, wherever you are, I hope you’re okay.” Dean mumbled under his breath. He tried not to think about where Sam still was after all this time. “Damnit, Cas. Almost twenty years, and here I am still praying like I think you’re gonna answer one day. You stopped listening a long time ago, I bet. If you’re even still alive.” He huffed out his breath and scrubbed a hand over his eyes as he continued. “I made Sam a promise that I’d go live my happy normal life and forget about him. Well I’m here, and my life is pretty normal,” he paused and let his gaze sweep over the photos again. “And, dare I say happy. But I can’t forget Sam, or you, or Bobby, no matter how much I want to sometimes.” Dean winced slightly at the stab of guilt of saying those words out loud. He didn’t have a right to forget, but he almost felt he didn’t have a right to remember either. It’d been so long since he was a hunter, sometimes it felt like someone else’s life.  
“I have a family now. But I had a family before, too. I just wish…” Dean paused again, searching for the right words. “I just wish I didn’t have to trade one for the other.” Dean walked back to the mantel, lowered the necklace back in, and shut the box. He turned and padded up the stairs to his and Lisa’s bedroom.

A few state lines away, rock music blared from the rolled-down windows of a black Dodge Charger. The roads were mostly empty at this time of night, so there was no one to notice the car pushing the speed limit heading into the next state, or the lone man driving it.  
Sam’s cell phone buzzed in the seat next to him, Bobby’s name flashing across the caller ID. He turned the music down a few notches, then flipped the phone open and pressed it to his ear. “Hey, Bobby, what’s up?”  
“Hey, kid,” Bobby’s voice crackled through the speaker. “I got something for you. Heard it over the police scanner. Four disappearances in the last two weeks, out of the blue. Cops found one torn to bits in the woods a few days later, but they’re keeping it quiet; don’t want to freak out the locals. Others are still missing.”  
“Sounds like our kind of thing,” Sam replied. “What do you think, a shapeshifter? Or maybe a vamp? Not like them to leave evidence around, but…”  
“Who knows with the monsters anymore, things are getting crazier by the day. Better go check it out though.” Bobby said.  
“Where is it?” Sam heard a pause and a shuffle of papers on the other end of the line.  
“Battlecreek, Michigan.”   
“Okay, I’m about a night’s drive south of there. Should be there by morning.”   
“Good, let me know what you find, kid.”   
“Sure thing.” Sam said, clicking his phone shut and tossing back into the empty passenger seat. He turned the music back up and stepped on the gas pedal just as he crossed the state line into Indiana.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Many apologies for the long wait; I know I said I would update weekly, but finals got in the way, and then my laziness got in the way. As I’ve proven, I’m not so good at sticking to a posting schedule. Things have calmed down considerably though, so I will be updating more often now. I’m really excited about where this story is going and I hope you are too!

It was evening, and Ellie was running across the parking lot of the diner, seconds from being late for her shift. The cheerful ding of the bell announced her arrival just as the hands on the clock reached five thirty. As Ellie walked through the door she a wave of fried aroma washed over her, followed by the dull chatter of customers and the hiss of cooking food. She walked briskly past the crowded counter and went in the back, tossing her purse into a cubbyhole and grabbing her apron off a hook. Rodney, standing at the grill flipping a burger over, turned and shot her a look. “Running late Ellie?”   
“Sorry, Rodney!”   
“A family just left the corner table by the window; go clean it. We’re getting slammed tonight.”   
Nodding, Ellie grabby a spray bottle and a rag and went back out to the table, where her coworker Will was stacking the dirty dishes from the table into a bin. Ellie gave the table a spray and wiped it down, mopping up a bit of spilled milk.  
“Thanks for offering to take my shift Thursday,” Will said, nodding to her.  
“No problem. Thanks for taking mine next week during finals. My mom won’t let me work that week.”   
Just like Rodney said, the diner was unusually crowded for a weeknight, and Ellie spent the next few hours walking back and forth between the kitchen and the tables with a notepad, cleaning supplies, and baskets of burgers and fries.   
As the sun sank below the horizon and darkness gathered in the parking lot, the dinner rush finally began to thin out. Several groups cleared out at once, leaving the tables scattered with plastic burger baskets, crumpled napkins, and dots of ketchup. Ellie went back to the kitchen for her Windex and rag. When she walked back into the dining room she saw the door swing open once again, and a tall guy with a thick mop of shaggy brown hair walked through and looked around at the messy tables. Ellie quickly walked up to clear one, flashing him a smile.   
“Hi sir! Here let me get this for you.” As she spoke Ellie stacked up the baskets on the nearest table and wiped down the bright red surface. She glanced back at their newest customer, who was gazing around the room with his hands in his pockets. She was sure she hadn’t met him before, but at the same time something about him seemed strangely familiar. “You new in town?” she asked.   
He turned back to meet her gaze. “Is it that obvious?”  
Ellie shook her head. “It’s a small town; we don’t get a lot of unfamiliar faces around here. I’m Ellie, by the way.” She wiped her hand on her apron and offered it for him to shake.   
“John,” he said, taking her hand. “John Bonham.”   
Ellie paused and straightened up slightly as she gave the table a final swipe. “Like the drummer for Led Zeppelin?”   
He seemed kind of taken aback by her answer. “Uh, yeah. My dad was a big fan.”   
Ellie smiled. “Something tells me your dad and my dad would get along. So what brings you to Battlefield, Michigan?”   
“Just passing through on business,”   
“Hmm,” Ellie nodded, assuming his vagueness meant he didn’t want to talk about it. She picked up the baskets and grabbed a menu from the stack by the door, placing it on the table. “There you are. I’ll be back in just a moment to take your order.”   
Once she’d cleared a few tables and come back, John ordered a grilled chicken sandwich with a side of onion rings, and asked if they had a copy of the day’s local paper. Ellie found once in the back with Rodney’s stuff and brought it out.   
The rest of her shift was pretty uneventful. John sat as table with his eyes glued to the paper while he ate. Ellie wondered why someone who clearly wasn’t from here would care about the local paper, but thought maybe he was just using it to look occupied since he was eating alone. Eventually everyone cleared out except for him, and Ellie wiped off the last few tables and started mopping the dining room floor, trying to drop the hint that it was time to go. Fortunately he seemed to get it and got up to leave, tucking the paper under his arm and leaving a handful of bills on the table. Ellie went over to bus his table and was pleasantly surprised to see he’d left her a hefty tip. She looked up as he was heading out the door and caught his gaze. “Thanks! Have a nice night, sir!”  
He smiled back. “You too,”   
He seemed about to say something else, but Rodney walked out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish rag, and said “Hey Ellie, good work tonight. Finish cleaning up and I’ll drive you home.”   
John nodded to her and walked out the door, and Ellie quickly cleaned up his table and finished mopping, then went in the back and slipped off her apron. Rodney was tallying up the money in the cash register when she came back out to the front. “You don’t have to drive me Rodney, I live really close. I always walk to work.”   
Rodney shut the cash drawer and grabbed his keys off the counter. “I know, but it’s dark. I want to make sure you get home safe.”   
Shrugging, Ellie relented and followed him out to his truck. It was only a few blocks to her house, and a few minutes later she was waving to Rodney and bounding up the steps to her front door. She greeted her parents, who were in the living room flipping through TV channels, and went upstairs to Ben’s room. He was sitting on his bed playing videogames. Ellie flopped on his bed next to him.   
“Hey how was work? You got home fast,” Ben commented without looking up from his game.   
“It was fine. And Rodney gave me a ride. Which I won’t need in a few months. As soon as they sign off.” Ellie tilted her head toward the stairs.   
“Mom and Dad both drive their cars to work. You think they’re going to buy you one? I wouldn’t hold my breath.”   
“No, of course not. We already have three cars.” Ellie said slyly.   
“Ells, Dad is never going to let you drive the Impala. That car is basically his first child. Get it out of your head.”   
“I know,” Ellie groaned, stretching out on her back and looking up at the glow in the dark stars that dotted Ben’s ceiling. “I can dream, can’t I?” She looked over at Ben, his eyes still glued to his game. “Aren’t you supposed to be studying?”   
“I could say the same to you.”   
“Touché. Night, squirt.” Ellie lightly punched Ben’s shoulder and rolled off his bed, heading to her room to study for her history final. 

On the other side of town, Sam unlocked the door of his motel room and walked through, tossing the paper and his car keys on the table. Just as he’d thought, there was no mention of the disappearances in the local paper, only stories about upcoming summer events, church retreats, and new hires at the police station. He was surprised they had been able to keep things this quiet. Usually disappearances, especially lots of them in such a short time, would have made the news. But seemingly the people were blissfully unaware of the threat that could be stalking them, just like so many others. He was glad the guy at the diner had offered to drive that waitress home. Sam had been about to offer her a ride himself before the manager did. He didn’t like the idea of a kid like her walking home alone at night with God knew what on the loose. She probably knew better than to accept a ride from a stranger, anyway. Sam sat down on the bed and turned on the TV, looking for the local news channel. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something about her that seemed familiar.   
Sam knew he wouldn’t get much more done tonight, so he texted Bobby a quick update and started getting ready for bed. Until he could figure out whatever it was that was going on here, everyone was at risk.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re back! Once again I owe you an apology for the long wait, but I have a bit of a clearer idea of the next few chapters so hopefully I'll be updating soon. Who else can’t wait for a little Winchester family reunion? ;) We’ll get there, I promise. Hope you enjoy!

The late spring sun was high in the sky as Sam parked his car and headed into the local police station, suit and tie on and fake ID in his pocket. Bobby mentioned that the cops found one of the missing locals dead in woods, and he was here to do some digging.  
The head of the cop behind the front desk snapped up as Sam entered. His eyes swept nervously over the stranger in the suit. His curly was cropped close to his skull, and the creases in his dark blue uniform shirt were still crisp and sharp. Must be a new guy. Sam walked up and flashed his fake FBI badge for him to see. “Good afternoon Officer…”  
“Swift.” He replied with a gulp.  
“Officer Swift. My name is Frank Beards, I’m with the FBI, I’m here about the missing persons cases.”  
Officer Swift looked around as if he was afraid someone else would overhear. “The federal government is interested in an open case here?”  
Sam stood up straighter and injected a tinge of irritation to his voice. “We make it our business to remain interested in the well-being of all our citizens, officer.”  
The police officer’s eyes widened slightly. “Right, of course. How can I help you?”   
Sam decided he might get more out of this guy if he played the good cop. He leaned conspiratorially over the desk and lowered his voice. “Look, between you and me, we wouldn’t usually send someone out here for a case of this scale. But we have reason to believe your culprit might be a serial killer we’ve been tracking. This is the closest we’ve been to catching him in almost a year.”  
Officer Swift puffed up slightly at Sam’s words. “I’m pretty new here Agent Beards, but I can assure you our precinct is the best in the state. How can we help?”  
“I understand you found the remains of one of the missing persons, I need to see them.”  
“Of course, follow me.”  
Officer Swift was practically at military attention as he marched down the hall to the morgue, Sam following. He swung the door open and the sterile chemical scent of the morgue washed over them. Sam had to resist the urge to roll his eyes as Officer Swift introduced his new best friend from the FBI to the medical examiner and asked to see the recovered remains. Sam followed him to one of the refrigerated drawers and waited while the examiner snapped on a pair of gloves and pulled the drawer open. Officer Swift was still standing ramrod straight, watching as if he expected to be consulted on the state of the body. “Thank you, Officer Swift,” Sam dismissed him, “Your help is greatly appreciated by the bureau.”  
The police officer nodded enthusiastically and turned crisply to head back to his desk. Sam turned back to the body in front of him, covered by a pristine white sheet.   
“It’s not pretty,” the medical examiner said in a warning tone as she pulled back the sheet. She wasn’t kidding. Sam stared at what was left of a man in his early thirties. His face was so mangled it was almost unrecognizable, his left leg was hanging on by a thread, and there were ragged wounds gaping all over his chest and neck. The whole body was pale and almost shrunken, as if it had been drained of fluids.  
“Yikes,” was all Sam could say for a moment.  
“No kidding,” the medical examiner replied in the resigned tone of someone accustomed to carnage. “This is why we’re trying to keep it under wraps.”  
“Do we have an I.D. on the victim?”  
“David Collins, used to live in a mobile home just outside town, worked from home as an actuary. No spouse, no kids, no family that we know of. He kept to himself.” She paused and looked up from the body to Sam. “You think a serial killer did this?”  
It took Sam a beat to remember the story he’d given the police officer. “I did, but now I’m not so sure. What’s your assessment?”   
“Well, my first instinct was animal attack, but there are a lot of inconsistencies there. For one thing, his heart is missing.”  
“Missing, like cut out?”  
Now the medical examiner looked over her shoulder like she was expecting someone to hear. “No, missing like…eaten.”  
“So you think this was an animal attack?”  
“That was my first thought, but the thing is, only his heart is missing. All the other organs are damaged, but still there. Not to mention he’s lost almost ninety percent of his blood, but there was only minimal pooling in the spot where the officers found him, and no drag marks. As if it was suctioned out somehow. Listen, I know this is going to sound crazy…”  
“I’m sure it won’t.”  
She looked up in surprise and Sam gave her a half-smile. “At the Bureau we see a lot of crazy things. You were saying?”  
The medical examiner lowered her voice again. “This is a strange question but, are you familiar at all with mythological creatures? You know, Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster, that kind of thing?”  
Sam nodded for her to continue.  
“My son is in middle school and he’s obsessed with cryptids. The one he’s been going on about lately is the chupacabra; it’s supposed to be some wolf-bear-vampire creature. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this man had been attacked by one.”  
Well, that’s a new one, Sam thought.   
The medical examiner pulled the sheet back over the body and started to slide the drawer back into place. “Maybe I’m just letting my imagination run away with me. I need to stop spending so much time around twelve-year-olds. For now I’m saying wolf attack, I’d like to keep my job here.”  
Sam nodded. “I don’t blame you. Thanks for your help, I’ll come by again if I need anything else.”  
He walked back through the hallway to the front and was on his way out the door when he heard a voice call, “Officer Beards!”  
Sam turned around and saw the newbie officer scribbling his information on an index card. He held it out and said eagerly, “If you need any more help, just let me know. Day or night.”   
Taking the card, Sam nodded his thanks and walked out the door, flipping his cell phone open to update Bobby. “Yeah?” Bobby’s gruff voice came through the phone.  
“Hey Bobby, I just saw the body,”   
“Any idea what’s snatching people?”   
“No, but the victim looks like he was something’s chew toy. The heart was missing, which says werewolf, the body was drained of blood, which says vampire, and the whole body was mangled, which says shapeshifter. Any thoughts?”   
“Yeah, I think we’d better find whatever monster is doing this, idjit. Any connection between the vics?”  
Sam circled around to his car and climbed in the driver’s seat with the phone pressed to his ear. “According to the case file they’re all loners. Little to no family, definitely none in the area, kept to themselves, the kind that’ll take a least a few days before people start to miss them.” As he spoke Sam watched the townspeople strolling by, living their apple pie lives with no idea of the awful things that could be stalking them. Sometimes he envied them their ignorance. Bobby’s voice faded into the background as he watched the smiling faces go by. One familiar one stood out: a smiling dark-haired girl rounding the corner. Sam recognized her as the waitress from the diner the other day. She turned and called to someone who was coming around the corner behind her.   
“Sam? You still there?”   
“Yeah, Bobby, sorry. This is weird, but the medical examiner thought—”  
But the words died on his lips. Vaguely he heard the phone hit the floor of his car and Bobby’s voice calling him, but every thought had vanished out of his head at the sight of a face he never thought he’d see again.   
Just across the street, standing less than a hundred feet away, was Dean. Sam stared open-mouthed, frozen in place in his seat. Dean was smiling, and as Sam watched he reached out to tousle the dark curls on the girl’s head as two more figures rounded the corner and came to stand next to them. Dean wrapped his arm around the shoulders of a pretty woman with her own head of dark curls, and smiled at a boy who looked a few years younger than the girl from the diner. They looked like the poster family for some white-picket-fence sitcom. Sam’s heart was beating out of his chest as he watched them pass. Involuntarily he slumped down in his seat, irrationally afraid Dean would turn his head and see him. How strange that after all these years his first instinct was to hide.   
Bobby’s voice squawking at him through the phone broke him out of his thoughts. Sam snatched the phone from the floor, his head swiveling to follow Dean and the others down the sidewalk. “Bobby, you’ll never guess what I’m looking at right now.”   
“I hope it’s another hunter, because at this rate whatever this thing is’ll eat half the town before you get a whiff of it.”   
“Actually…it is. It’s…Dean, Bobby.”  
“…What?”  
“Dean is here, he’s right in front of me. He’s with a woman, and two kids.” And suddenly the obvious puzzle piece clicked into place. “Not just two kids, his kids. Dean has a…a family.   
“Are you sure you didn’t suck down some formaldehyde in that morgue, kid?”   
“Bobby, I’m telling you, I’m looking at him. He looks…happy. I can’t believe this. Hang on,” Sam took the phone from his ear and aimed the camera out his window before Dean and the others could disappear back out of sight. He snapped a picture and texted it to Bobby. It was hard to make out the details from a distance, but unmistakably Dean.  
Bobby sounded a little choked up despite himself when he spoke next. “Well I’ll be damned.”   
“He kept his promise, Bobby,” Sam’s voice broke off as a sob suddenly surged up his throat. “He kept his promise.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's not next Friday, but it is *a* Friday. Baby steps. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 4  
Hi everyone! Okay, it’s not the next Friday, but it is *a* Friday. Baby steps. Hope you enjoy the chapter!  
Sometimes Sam really hated hunting alone. Sure, he always got to pick the radio stations and no one was around to give him side eye for ordering a salad instead of a burger. Plus Bobby was only a phone call away when he needed advice or help finding some obscure bit of lore, but when he was into hour seven in the car alone, he couldn’t help but think about the days he spent in the passenger seat with Dean behind the wheel. Back when they used to hunt wendigos and things were simple. They’d saved each others’ asses so many times it became a habit. He missed that feeling: knowing that someone was around who had his back no matter what.   
He especially felt that way during cases like this one: the cases that were so infuriating, he just wanted someone to commiserate with while he contemplated banging his head against the motel room wall. He’d been in town for days and wasn’t any closer to even figuring out what was attacking people, let alone catching the damn thing. Bobby was right; at this rate there wouldn’t be a town left by the time he figured out what was threatening them.  
The dark orange light of early evening slanted through the shades on the motel room windows and cast long bars of shadow across the piles of books, newspapers, and old pizza boxes that were littered around. Sam had combed through the background of the victims, sure there must be a connection, but as far as he could tell the only thing they all had in common was that they were loners. He’d studied the local papers from the last several weeks trying to find something that would hint at what supernatural creature might be making itself comfortable here, but found nothing. He’d flipped through the local news channels on the grainy motel TV so many times he had the order memorized by now, but still nothing. And the lack of information wasn’t just frustrating; it was eerie. Especially considering the state of the body the medical examiner showed him, Sam was incredulous that there had been no mention at all of the attacks in any of the local news outlets. Not only that, things had gone mysteriously quiet since he showed up in town. No new bodies at the morgues, no emergency calls with crazy unbelievable stories. Whatever monster this was had been pretty active for the last few weeks, but now that someone was actually looking for it, it vanished like a puff of smoke.   
In any case, he was starting to go a little nuts from going around in the same circles again. Sam tossed the remainder of his lukewarm beer in the trash can and grabbed his car keys off the table, thinking he would go to the local library and see if there were any public records that might help him. Maybe the town was built on an ancient mystical burial site and those who disturbed it were doomed to suffer an eternity of ambiguous grisly murders perpetrated against the least noteworthy of their citizens. At this point he’d take anything.  
It was a quick drive to the library, but Sam spent most of it slouched down in the driver’s seat of his Charger. Maybe it was irrational, but ever since he’d seen Dean a few days ago he couldn’t stop imagining turning a corner and running right into his brother, and he had a strange sense that he was intruding by being here. In the past decade and a half Sam had grown accustomed to both solitude and to the life of a hunter, but if he was being completely honest with himself he still felt a stab of jealousy that Dean had made it out. I was his family first. The mutinous thought entered Sam’s head before he could stop it, and he shook his head sternly. Dean had built something here. He couldn’t begrudge his brother a normal family, or a life outside the job. Wasn’t that what Sam tried to choose for himself?  
As he turned onto the street where the public library sat across from the local high school, he smiled involuntarily at the reminder of meeting Ellie at the diner without even knowing who she was. No wonder she seemed so familiar. This was an even more complicated thought than the last, but Sam knew that Dean’s family was technically his family too. Sam had long ago stopped imagining that he’d ever have his own normal life, but seeing Dean with his wife and kids on the street the other day was a tiny glimpse at what could be.   
Of course since he’d seen them Sam had entertained the thought of telling Dean he was alive. In his head it played out like some 1990’s soap opera series finale: he showed up on their doorstep on a random weeknight, the long lost beloved brother miraculously returned, and for the rest of the family the uncle and brother-in-law they never thought they’d have, welcomed with open arms. He wished he could have had the chance to know them. But Sam had seen enough shit to know real life never worked out that way, and as much as he wanted to he didn’t know if contacting Dean would be for the best. On the one hand, he would be overjoyed to talk to Dean again, and he selfishly wanted to entertain the thought that Dean would jump back into the Impala and hit the road with him again. Surely Dean would be happy to see him too, and know he was alive and okay after all these years, but Sam couldn’t help but feel that his presence would be the equivalent of a tornado in Dean’s nice apple pie life. Better to just get this stupid case over with as soon as possible and move on; leave his newly discovered family safely in the rearview mirror.   
The library was crowded, reminding Sam it was almost the end of the school year and all the high school students were studying for their finals. The hush of the library was offset by a quite buzz of activity groups of teenagers clustered around tables poring over books and notes and working on papers.  
Sam considered asking a librarian for help, but a few of the local police officers already knew him as a federal agent, and it was a small enough town that word might get back to them. He followed the signs to the back of the library where the town records were held. Behind a glass case containing a scale model of the town hall, there were a few shelves of newspaper archives, blueprints, and town history. This section of the library was mostly deserted. As Sam scanned the shelves of books, he could see over the top shelf to the tables full of kids on the other side of the study room. He couldn’t help flashing back to days spent in other unfamiliar small town libraries when he was their same age and surrounded by other kids, but they were all doing research for history papers and he was looking up information on kitsunes and werewolves for his dad.   
He looked through the town records to see if he could find any similar cases. According to the saved newspapers from the past couple decades there had been a few murder cases that were never solved, but nothing that was similar enough to these ones to warrant looking into. As far as he could tell there was nothing to suggest shady dealings or paranormal activity in the town’s history or the surrounding land. Everything was almost too normal. News was apparently so slow that in a more recent copy of the paper, the same one he’d read at the diner a few nights ago, the front page story was about a new officer from out of state having been hired at the police station. The photo was of a young-looking police officer beaming as he shook hands with the commissioner, a shock of curly blonde hair spilling out of his cap. Sam recognized him as Officer Swift, the officer he met at the morgue earlier. No wonder he was so overzealous.  
Remembering that the medical examiner told him the body he saw was discovered in a forest on the other edge of town, Sam went back to the town history section to see if he could find a current map. If this monster was trying to keep a low profile, it would most likely stay out of the center of town and keep to the fringes, where it was less likely to be noticed. If he could figure out where it would go searching for its next victim, maybe he could catch it before another person fell victim. According to the map, the woods where the body was found were on the other side of town, near the diner and some residential neighborhoods. Slightly separated from the rest of town was a small trailer park: the one the medical examiner said the poor guy lived. If the monster sought out one victim there, maybe he’d find another. The people who lived there seemed to be somewhat cut off from the community, and that certainly seemed to be the type this monster would go for. Rolling the map back up and sliding it back onto the shelf, Sam decided he would head out there tonight and stake the place out. It had been several days since whatever this thing was had killed, and based on its previous activity level it was due for another victim.  
Sam glanced up and saw out the window that the sun was already almost set; he didn’t realize how late it had gotten. He’d better get out there if he wanted to save the next person from being this thing’s chew toy.  
Lost in thought, Sam put his hands in his pockets and headed back toward the front entrance of the library. Now that it was getting dark the high schoolers were starting to trickle out too to head back home. Sam swung the door open and walked briskly back toward his car, parked on the edge of the parking lot. He turned the corner around a tall hedge that bordered the front of the library and ran right into a small figure standing right in front of him.  
The girl’s back was to him, but when Sam bumped into her she stumbled forward and dropped a few of the books she’d been holding on the ground. Sam immediately bent to pick them up. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. You okay?”  
The words were barely out of his mouth when the girl, who had also bent to pick up her dropped things, looked up and met his eyes, and his next apology evaporated out of his head. It was Ellie. She looked at him with vague confusion for a second before recognition dawned on her face. Sam couldn’t speak, or breathe, or even think. This was it. Somehow she’d put it together and realized who he was. What should he say? What do you say to one of your only living blood relatives when you had no idea they existed until a matter of days ago? Sam stared dumbstruck at her for a beat too long before he remembered she knew him as a stranger she met at the diner. He thrust her books into her arms and hastily stood up. “Uh, yeah, sorry, didn’t see you there,” he mumbled, avoiding her eyes.  
“That’s okay, no harm done. John, right? Still passing through on business?”   
She said it with a barely-there note of skepticism that made him think she knew something strange was up with him, but she seemed more curious than suspicious. Her two friends standing on the sidewalk next to her gave the two of them confused looks. Maybe some small part of her did recognize him, somehow, even if she herself didn’t understand it. For a fraction of a second he considered telling her the truth, just spilling it all right there on the sidewalk, but she was a normal kid with a normal life, and he knew better than anyone that there was no way to escape the world of a hunter once you’d been brought into it. He may have barely met this girl, but she was his family, and couldn’t do that to her.  
“Yeah, I probably won’t be in town for much longer. Have to keep moving, you know.”  
She nodded like she understood, but kept that same look on her face that told him she didn’t quite believe him.   
“What are you doing here? School stuff?”  
Ellie nodded at the books in her arms. “Just some last minute research for my history final. I get better work done here than at home. My dad’s coming to pick me up on his way back from work so he can take me to my late shift at the diner.”   
Sam felt his stomach drop. As badly as part of him wanted to see Dean, the other part was terrified of the possibility. “Well, I’d better get going.” He awkwardly waved goodbye and almost jogged across the parking lot to his car. He overheard one of her friends asking who he was. “I don’t know,” she said. Sam could feel her eyes following him across the parking lot as he left. “Just some guy.”   
Sam slammed the driver’s side door of his car behind him and listened to the engine rev to life as he turned the key in the ignition. He turned out of the parking lot an starting heading toward the edge of town, watching his niece grown smaller and smaller in his rearview mirror.   
“Bye, Ellie.”

There was a reason he and Dean had rarely done stakeouts when they hunted as a team. Stakeouts were boring, exhausting, and usually ineffective. The sun had set hours ago, and Sam has spent the first half of the night idling in his car on the edge of a trailer park, starting every time a twig snapped or a racoon scratched at a trash can. He’d been debating getting out of car to take a closer look around for the last hour, but he suspected the people who lived in the surrounding trailers would be on their guard given that a violent murder had occurred near here less than three weeks prior, and they likely wouldn’t take well to strangers poking around in the dark. He didn’t want to startle some trigger-happy townie with a shotgun. He was hardly going to get anything done from inside the car though. At this point he was wondering if whatever this thing was had just skipped town as soon as he got here. How embarrassing would that be.  
As he considered his options, Sam heard a faint sound coming from the trees behind him. He was parked on a gravel road facing a few rows of trailers, but if he twisted in seat and peered into the trees, he could just barely make out a light. Finally deciding it was worth the risk, Sam slowly backed his car a little closer to the trees and got out. The car lock clicked behind him as he walked up to the edge of the trees. Now that he was outside the sound was getting louder, and it sounded like drums. Not what he expected, but the first unusual thing he’d seen all night. Sam took one step forward into the soupy darkness of the trees, feeling pine needles shift under his shoes instead of the crunch of gravel. He tucked his gun into the back waistband of his jeans and felt his heart start to beat faster in spite of himself. He had a flashlight, but didn’t want to turn it on for fear of alerting whatever it was to his presence.  
Sam followed the sound deeper into the trees. He didn’t seem to be following any kind of definite path, but the noise got louder and more defined and the light got bright enough for him to make out that it was some kind of large campfire. As he got closer he could hear voices yelling and calling to one another. The wind changed direction and a strong waft of wood smoke wafted over him. Maybe the murder wasn’t one monster, but a whole group of them. Maybe it wasn’t a monster at all. Sam edged closer and the thumping of drum beats grew steadily louder. Could it be witches, or hoodoo? Was he about to walk right into the middle of a cult sacrifice?  
This probably wasn’t the kind of thing he should take on alone. He was used to hunting solo at this point, but a whole coven of god knew what would be a challenge for even the best hunter. He’d just take a look to see what they were up against and then head back to his car and call Bobby. Surely there were some other hunters in the area who could come by and help him out. Under different circumstances Sam might have just taken the risk and gone in alone, but knowing that Dean and his niece, nephew, and sister-in-law may be at risk made him want to play this one safe. He couldn’t afford to let this witch coven or cult or whatever horror show he was about to witness having even a chance of getting away.  
Sam came up on a particularly dense ring of trees, and he could here that the music was coming from right behind them. Now that he was closer he could hear there were at least thirty or forty different voices yelling, and he could see sparks and thick swirls of smoke rising into the night sky through gaps in the higher branches. Reaching out to part the branches, Sam wondered what he would do if they were in the middle of another murder right now. He couldn’t just leave someone to be killed, but by the sound of things, there was no way he could handle this group all alone. Steeling himself, he pulled a pine branch down just enough to see into the clearing. There was a crowd of shadowy figures circled around a big bonfire, dancing around or sitting on logs.  
Well, at least I don’t have to worry about calling for backup. The clearing wasn’t the site of some poor innocent person being slaughtered in a grisly evil ceremony; it was the place the local teens apparently came to party. The whooping and hollering was just a bunch of fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen year-olds caught up in the excitement of their first beer. They must be celebrating the end of the school year, Sam thought. Shaking his head, he turned to head back to his car. He wondered if he should stay to make sure whatever threat was around here didn’t go after the kids, but it seemed to only go after individuals who wouldn’t be missed for a while: the party was too loud, crowded, and visible to be a likely target.  
Sam tramped back through the woods to the trailer park, much less concerned about the noise he made this time. His feet crunched rhythmically on the pine needles and dead leaves, releasing a sharp smoky scent into the air. Despite the situation, he looked up at the bright stars and full moon that cast the woods in silvery relief. It was a nice night for a bonfire. Not for the first time, Sam wished he could sit around that bonfire without knowing wat the trees were concealing.  
Before he knew it he was back at the trailer park. Since he was here, he might as well take a look around. This late, the lights were out in the windows of all the trailers. A few cars were parked around, and there were even a couple of barbecues and picnic tables here and there, but at night and now that he was alone again, it all looked creepy rather than quaint. One trailer had a small shed next to it, and Sam walked up and shone his flashlight in the window. It was a woodworking shop; the person who lived in the trailer next to it must have been a carpenter.  
Nothing looked out of the ordinary, and Sam figured it was time to resign himself to defeat for another night and head back to the motel room to get some sleep. He started walking back to his car. In the middle of a step he noticed his shoe had come untied in the woods and crouched to fix it, tucking his flashlight under his chin.  
As he was bending over, a twig snapped somewhere behind him, and Sam froze. He barely breathed as he listened for another sound. The kids’ music had faded into the background, and suddenly the silence of the woods was oppressive. There wasn’t even the noise of a bird flapping away or a squirrel in the branches, as if even the trees were holding their breath. Sam tied his show and slowly straightened up, his eyes cutting to every flicker of shadow around him. He took one tentative step forward and immediately stopped. Nothing. He took another step, intentionally making more noise this time. Still nothing. He took three quick steps toward his car. There: just as he started walking, another set of footsteps mirrored his own. They sounded like they were coming from behind him. He took another few steps forward and heard them again, just barely audible over the crunch of his own footsteps. This time they were off to his right side. Whatever it was was trying to get between him and his car. Sam froze again.   
This monster goes after individuals when they’re alone…he thought.  
It targets people who don’t know many people in the area and aren’t a part of the community…  
It kills people who won’t be missed for at least several days…  
In order for it to keep a low profile, it went after people who did the same…  
Sam couldn’t believe how naïve he’d been. That was why the monster had suddenly stopped killing. That was why he hadn’t been able to track its movements. That was why he’d come up with no leads since he’d been here. All this time it’d been stalking him, and he’d been too distracted to realize. Whatever he’d been hunting had been hunting him, and it was about to make a move.  
Time to make a decision. He was between his car and the wood shop behind him, about ten steps closer to the wood shop. He had weapons in the car, but the wood shop had power tools. If he knew what he was up against he’d have a better idea which would be more effective.   
Of all the pieces of advice Sam’s dad had given them over the years, one of the few that Sam had actually connected with was that a hunter has to trust their instincts. He couldn’t see what was after him, didn’t know what it was or what it was capable of, or even how close it was to him, but he knew in his gut that right now he needed to act or die. He turned and sprinted back to the woodshed. Footsteps followed him, not bothering to be quiet this time.  
The door was locked, but Sam smashed it open with one solid kick. He whipped his gun out and turned to face the door, flashlight beam pointed to show him whatever this creature was. But the dim light of the flashlight was drowned out as a pale hand flicked the overhead lights on and slowly closed the broken door. The figure in the closed doorway slowly swiveled to face Sam, and he was faced with a smile he’d seen before, but rather than overenthusiastic and bright, this one was chilling.  
“Officer Swift?” Sam asked, for a moment too dumbstruck to fire.   
“Hello, ‘Agent Frank Beards’, or do you prefer your professional name, Sam Winchester?” Officer Swift sidled into the center of small space. “I’ve heard of you. I knew you were a hunter as soon as you walked into the precinct. Here’s a tip, next time, don’t use an FBI badge that says ‘bikini inspector’ as your job title. Not that there’ll be a next time.”  
“That’s why there’ve been no reports of the murders in the local news. The police didn’t want to scare people. That was your idea, I take it?”  
Officer Swift affected a sugary-sweet falsetto, “Commissioner, we can’t let this get out, it would cause a panic! You know we’ll get the guy, why worry people for no reason?”  
Sam had to admit to himself, this was one of the smartest monsters he’d come across. He’d seen a lot of things over the years, but a creature posing a local police officer was a new one. “What are you?”  
“I’m something you’ve never seen before,” as he spoke, a spiky set of fangs slide down to cover his straight white teeth. Vampire? His fingernails lengthened into long, pointed claws. Werewolf? His eyes flashed white and then darkened from yellow to black. A demon? “I’m something new, cooked up by an old friend of yours. Someone who can’t wait to see you, by the way. I’m sure it’ll be a satisfying reunion, Sam. But maybe not the one you’d hoped for.”  
Sam’s eyes widened as Officer Swift, whatever he was, laughed. Regaining his senses, Sam raised his gun and fired two rounds into the thing’s chest. He stumbled backwards with a grunt of pain, but quickly barked another laugh. “Nice try Sam, but a gun won’t do much to stop me.”  
Not giving him time to think up another jab, Sam charged at Swift. He grabbed him by the shirt collar and shoved him back against the wall. His head cracked against one of the window with a crash, smashing one of the panes open, but he recovered quickly. As Sam threw a punch, Swift caught his hand with a supernaturally strong grip, his pointed claws digging bloody trails across Sam’s knuckles. He shoved Sam hard and sent him flying across the room, knocking into a table and sending stacks of wood and machinery clanging to the floor. Sam grabbed a heavy plank of wood from the floor next to him and sprang to his feet, swinging it around to smash against Swift’s head. It didn’t seem to do much more than daze him for a few seconds, but it gave Sam a chance to grab the power strip the machines were plugged into and sprint the few steps to the wall. He dove to the floor to try and plug it in. Swift’s foot slammed into the dusty concrete floor next to his head, and Sam snatched a screwdriver from the floor and drove it into Swift’s foot.   
As Swift yelled and yanked out the screwdriver, Sam rolled to this side and shoved the power strip into the wall outlet. Around the room power tools whirred to life, including a small wood chipper out on the patio of the building. Sam leapt to his feet and Swift snatched a handheld power drill from a hook in the wall, bringing it up toward Sam’s face. Sam ducked the blow and punched Swift hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him and slipping away under his opposite arm. Swift came back at him and pinned him against the opposite wall, trying to force the drill closer to Sam’s face. Sam yelled as the frantic whirring of the drill next to hear drowned out the other sound in the room. The drill bit was inches from his eye, and no matter how hard he pushed against Swift’s forearm, he knew he was slowly being overpowered. Whatever this thing was it was strong.   
Letting go of Swift with one hand, Sam snatched his gun from his waistband and fired a round point blank into Swift’s shoulder. That was enough to make him falter and drop the drill to the concrete floor with a loud rattle. Sam shoved him away and snatched a circular saw from a counter on the side of the room. He pinned Swift down with a knee on his chest and drove the saw into his right shoulder. Swift screeched and struggled as Sam sawed into his arm. Sam shut his eyes against the warm spray of blood the saw sent up. As soon as he felt the saw hit the concrete floor, he jumped to his feet again and hauled Swift up by his remaining arm. He dragged him outside through the busted door and swung him into the growling mouth of the wood chipper. In seconds Swift was reduced to a stain on the grass outside.  
Sam bent over trying to get his breath back, panting and splattered with Swift’s blood. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. He’d seen his fair share of violence, but that was the bloodiest fight he’d been in a long time. But at least now he knew the town was safe, even if he still didn’t know where Swift had come from.  
Just as he was starting to catch his breath he heard a sharp intake of breath behind him. Could there be another one? Sam whirled around, hand on his gun and ready to fight again.  
And found himself staring into his niece’s horrified face.

**Author's Note:**

> Intrigued? I hope so! Updates once a week; come back next Monday for more!


End file.
